Till There Was You
by Hasty Hastings
Summary: Ten years after a passionate summer in the city, two young girls defy odds and come together to discover the truth about one of the biggest and best kept secrets of their lives. Parent Trap AU.


_I've been working on this for the better part of a week, and while that might sound very rushed you should know that I have never worked harder on any story and I am determined to see this through. Things you should know: This is a Riarkle story, and it's a Parent Trap AU. There will be more characters introduced as the story goes on and while I have nearly the whole story planned out already, I am alway open for suggestions or any requests you might have. Enjoy!_

* * *

 **Prologue: Real Love**

New York City. May, 2020.

The twinkle lights above the Met gleamed against the misty blue sky. A young woman pulls at her borrowed orange evening gown as she chases a man in his early 60's up the steps and along the white carpet littered with paparazzi.

"Mr. Cromwell, sir, I've been meaning to ask you about the new position in politics and-" Riley Matthews pants, trying to keep up with her boss.

The man reaches to snag a glass of champagne from a tray and turns around swiftly, a smirk on his face.

"Listen, Kiley."

"It's Riley." She says just barely above a whisper. He sighs, shoulders sagging. "Sorry."

" _Riley_ ," he starts over. "I just got off a plane from Abu Dhabi where I spent six days in a room interviewing haughty businessmen from all over this god forsaken world. I would rather watch my wife screw her step brother than talk about anything to do with work."

"I understand." The brunette averts her eyes from his glossy ones and reevaluates her shoe choice for a fourth time that night.

Grey eyebrows knit together. "Look, kid. You're cute, and you're resume glows. I'll think about it."

Her face lights up. "Seriously? Thank you, Mr. Cromwell!" The excitement overtakes her and she finds her arms around him by their own accord. He shrugs her off.

"Don't make me regret this, Rita." He grumbles, smoothing out his tux. "Now go find Stuart Minkus before his speech. See if you can get a headline."

Her boss makes a quick escape and the young girl bounces in place, trying to decide what to do before her culprit arrives.

Stuart Minkus is the CEO of Minkus International, a software programming company based out of Manhattan. He's easily the wealthiest man in the city and had just announced his retirement. Hence the extravagant gala. He was expected to make a speech at the end of the night and Riley was determined to catch him for an interview.

As the lead fact checker at the New York Times, Riley Matthews wasn't anything short of ambitious. She was two years post grad from Yale University. At twenty-two, she had been the youngest employee to be on staff and not interning.

Riley's stomach growled and she was instantly reminded of the nineteen minutes she was given to run into the women's restroom to freshen up for the gala after being stuck in a cubicle for 10 hours straight, calling every living family member of Andy Warhol to ask about a recently unearthed secret piece. Food in any sense had been the furthest thing from her mind. She spots a food table to her left and makes her way over.

Two salmon puffs and three lamb kabobs late, the junior journalist stood in an empty corner. Her anxiety was mounting with every new guest's entrance. It was still early for Stuart to arrive so Riley figured it would be a good time to inform her family of her latest conversation with Mr. Cromwell.

She popped open her clutch and fished around for her phone.

" _Hello_?" From the other line, August Matthews could be heard.

"Auggie, put mom and dad on." Riley instructs her younger brother.

The boy sighs. "They're in the kitchen with Shawn and Katy."

"Auggie, just put them on."

"But that's all the way downstairs…" He whines.

"August, I swear." She quips." If you ever want to meet George Lucas, you will put them on- _oof!"_ She's suddenly clanked in the head by a sterling silver hors d'oeuvres platter. The Yale grad barely has time to evaluate what's happened before her head hits the marble floor.

Two minutes later, she awakens, blinking slowly. She moves to sit up but a gentle hand stabilizes her head once more.

"Careful, sunshine." A smooth voice comes from behind her.

A shooting pain runs through her forehead and Riley groans, clenching her eyes shut. Even with closed eyes, she takes notice of the extreme brightness of her surroundings and realizes she's not at the party anymore.

"Where am I?" She croaks, glancing up cautiously.

A pair of dark hazel eyes blink back at her. Sparkling white teeth appear from behind a handsome smile and Riley momentarily wonders if she's meeting her guardian angel in Heaven.

"You're in the coat closet at the Metropolitan Museum." The voice matches the smile and the gentlemen squeezes her hand.

"You had quite a fall." He continues. "But that platter is really to blame. Got you right above your eye. Good thing it missed, otherwise you'd be in real trouble." He winks and reaches for something out her peripheral vision.

"What are you doing?" She asks anxiously.

He shushes her. "It's just a minor abrasion, I'm just going to clean it up and you'll be all done, take a deep breath."

Riley complies and breathes in slowly. Something cold stings against her cut. She hisses.

"Almost done." The mystery guy informs her distractedly. He gently lays an adhesive stitch across the small opening. Riley takes this moment to survey his face. He's... _familiar._ She doesn't think she knows him, his crisp navy tux and perfectly fitted Rolex tells her he's definitely not from her neck of the woods. In fact his whole get up screams trust fund baby.

He bites his lip in concentration before speaking again. "Do you know your name? Address?"

She sighs. "Riley Matthews, 21 Bleecker Street. Although right now I'm crashin with my best friend Maya. She's a teacher at Greyson Magnet school in TriBeCa. Art teacher, she's so talented, my god- oh wow," she gasps in pain. Her eyebrow is burning.

"Sorry," he whispers. "Gotta seal these suckers good the first time or you'd be in real trouble."

His smile has to be the greatest thing Riley has ever seen, even if she's a little woozy. "Tell me more about this Maya," he prompts.

"Well she's my best friend in the entire world. We grew up together." She tries to think of something more interesting. "She just broke up with this guy, he was kind of a dick to her and would call her constantly during the school day. It was pretty heinous."

"Yikes." He laughs.

"So who the hell are you?" Riley finally asks.

He pulls off the blue rubber gloves and tosses them in a nearby trash bin. "Farkle Minkus."

The oxygen suddenly flees from Riley's lungs and her head shoots up. " _Fuck."_ She feels like her head is twelve thousand pounds heavier. "You're _the_ Farkle Minkus? As in, only son of Stuart Minkus, recent med school graduate?"

 _The_ Farkle Minkus helps her to sit up against the wall, chuckling. "You seem to know a lot about me for someone who can't even recognize my face."

"Sorry." The brunette blushes. "I'm a fact checker for the _Times._ It's kind of my job to know this stuff."

"So are you gonna tell me my horoscope and MCAT scores too, because I'm kind of banking on those at the moment." He teases.

"No," she hisses. "I'm actually glad you're, you know, you. I need a favor."

Farkle closes the first aid kit and moves to sit beside the young woman. "You're asking the guy who just moments ago saved your life, for a favor?"

The blush on her face grows almost Crimson. "I guess I am. I need to interview your dad."

The hazel eyed man snorts. "Funny."

"What?" The journalist grows confused.

"My dad hasn't given an interview in five years, not since my mom died."

Riley gasps, taking his hand subconsciously. "I'm so sorry."

Farkle shrugged, fingernails working at the peeling red letters on the kit. "She had cancer, it wasn't so bad."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know- well, actually now that I think about it, I did...but I just…"

"It's fine, really." Farkle smiles and squeezes her hand again. "I wish I could get you an interview."

Her head falls back against the cool tile of the wall and she sighs. "I knew he was playing me." Farkle cocked his head to the side.

"Who?"

"My boss said he'd consider me for a real position if I got an interview with your dad, which I now know is completely unattainable and probably just a tactic to get rid of me asap."

Despite the circumstances, Farkle truly felt bad for the girl. He could tell she was bright and driven, and this probably was the chance of a lifetime.

"I said I couldn't get you an interview with Stuart Minkus," he said quietly, looking to her. "But I never said that you couldn't interview the next best thing."

"Pretty sure you're dad's never once in his career, had a business partner." Riley says dejectedly.

"Ouch," Farkle feigns hurt. He reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out what looks to be a business card.

On the white card in little, glossy black letters reads

 **Stuart F. Minkus Jr. MD.**

"You're not a doctor yet though?" Riley cluelessly replies, seemingly unaware of the text just under it.

Farkle snickers and points to it and Riley starts over. "Chief shareholder of Minkus International?" She looks to him and he nods. " _Oh_ this is perfect!"

She jokingly shoves him back in response to the laughter still flowing from his perfect smile. "You made me sound like such an idiot, jerk."

"Yeah but you looked really cute." He breathes, trying to justify his actions.

She looks back into his eyes as his own gaze flickers to her lips. At this point his intentions are crystal clear, and Riley lets his strong hand cup her cheek gently, and she welcomes his tender kiss with near immediate response. Farkle tastes of spearmint toothpaste and it's heaven. Her tongue greets his easily and their need grows quickly.

Farkle reaches for the zipper on her gown and Riley guides his hands to her bra, which is off in a matter of seconds.

"You locked the door, right?" She gasps between kisses.

His fingers sweep over her shoulder blades and he nods vigorously, moving in for another heated kiss as Riley reaches for his belt.

The next morning at a loft in Soho, Riley awakens in the comfort of Farkle's arms, the warm buzz of pleasure from the night before still coursing through her veins. It had only been one night, just twelve hours, but she had one thing on her mind. Coincidentally on person whose head rested just above hers on the pillow had the same exact thought. Farkle Minkus was going to marry Riley Matthews one day.


End file.
